


Like Real Heroes Do

by Kibbers



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M, Self-Worth Issues, Slow Build, Steve Tries to Recruit Tony, Steve Works With Avengers, Tony Angst, Tony Stark Still Has Arc Reactor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 19:36:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4717976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kibbers/pseuds/Kibbers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony's arc reactor is failing, Obadiah won't shut down weapons, and Steve Rogers keeps asking him to join the Avengers. Tony's not exactly having the best month.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading! This is one of my first Stony fics, so please let me know what you think! Also, if anyone would like to beta this, the link to my tumblr is at the end, my username is KibbersWrites. Just message me if you're interested!

"Good afternoon, Mr. Stark," the secretary outside Obie's office said as he walked by. He flashed her a smile and kept walking.

"Knock knock," Tony said, stopping in the doorway. Obadiah looked up from his computer.

"Tony, my boy, good to see you. You look better. Come in, come in."

Tony walked up to his desk.

"Please, take a seat." Tony didn't sit.

"Obie, I’m shutting down weapons. Today.”

"Tony, Tony, you just got back. Let's not make any rash decisions."

"I'm serious, Obie. Shut it down. I've already told Pepper to call a press conference. I just came here to warn you."

"Tony-"

"No, Obie. Listen to me. I was attacked, blown up, tortured, and left with this thing in my chest because the weapons with _my_ name that _we're_ producing got into the wrong hands. How many other people have we killed? How many of our people?”

"Alright, Tony. You know what? We're a team, you and me. Just like your father and I. And you know what? We're in this together. If this means so much to you, I'll make a few calls. But, Tony? This can't happen overnight. We can't make quick-fire decisions. We need to shift production over to something else, something just as stable. More stable than that arc reactor bullshit we've not made progress on in decades. It has to be calculated or this whole place crashes around us, okay?"

Obie got up from his desk and wrapped an arm around Tony's shoulders. Tony nodded. It wasn't exactly what he wanted, but it would do for now.

"Good, good. Wouldn't want to throw out all we've built together, now would you?"

No, he wouldn't. Obie had been there through his entire life. His parent's death, his breakdown, everything. He'd kept his father's company, _his_ company, running through it all. He was his friend.

"Thank you, Obie."

Tony turned to leave.

"Call off the press conference. We don’t need to alarm anyone or get investors to drop before we’re certain this thing will work.”

Tony nodded. He was thinking too rashly. Letting his anger get to him. It had always been a problem for him.

"See you later, Obie."

"Get some rest, Tony." Obie called after him.

Tony left the office and past the receptionist.

“Goodbye, Mr. Stark,” She called out after him. Once upon a time he’d consider sauntering back to her desk, flashing her a smile. Once upon a time he didn’t have metal around his heart.

Back at home, he shrugged off his jacket and shoes, opting for a tank-top and a pair of sweatpants. He had work to do.

"JARVIS, got those projections for me yet?"

"Good afternoon to you too, sir."

"JARVIS."

"Sir, it appears to have a projected life of seven days running at minimal power."

Like he said, Tony had work to do. He had JARVIS blast some music and got to work. He needed to update his current reactor. The one he had now was full of scrap metal and desperation. It was only to get him out of there. Now, he needed one that would last.

It felt good to be back, at times like this. Lost in the familiarity of it all. Sometimes, in the cave, he'd forget, while he was working, that JARVIS wasn't there. He call out a command expecting the robotic voice to answer back, the silence jarred him every time. It took a while to break the habit, though. Especially when he got lost in his work.

"Sir, shall I brew some coffee?"

Now, JARVIS’s actual voice was jarring. It was odd, but jarring in a good way. Like, Oh yeah, this is home. It was good to be back. 

* * *

 

"Sir, you have a meeting with a Mr. Fury and a Mr. Coulson this morning. Ms. Potts is upstairs now."

Tony jerked awake from the couch in his workshop. He wiped a hand over his face and sat up. He'd worked until his eyes were burning, until his hands were numb. Until his body forced his brain to shut down and he only had enough time to find the nearest surface to crash on. At least then he didn’t dream when he did that. Most of the time anyway.

He put his feet on the floor, the tile cold on his bare feet, and stretched his arms over his head.

"A meeting with who?"

"Agent Coulson and Director Fury," Pepper came into view from the stairs.

Tony squinted at her. She shouldn't be able to get in. Why could she get in?

"JARVIS happens to like me and I'm the only way you ever get anywhere on time. If I didn't have access, you'd disappear down here for months."

Damn, he'd said that out loud.

"Yes, you did. Now up, into the shower. We've got to get you there. Happy has coffee in the car."

At the promise of coffee, Tony stood up and stumbled his way into the shower.

"I'm setting a suit on your bed and I'll meet you upstairs in ten," Pepper said.

Showering used to be a luxury. He's spent a fortune on a shower with jets everywhere and customizable settings and all the bells and whistles, but now, he kept the settings as minimal as possible. He'd learned that the hard way. He showered fast, now. Just long enough to clean any grease and dirt off his body. He noted some left over yellow bruising o his chest. It was healing much better than he’d thought. A few weeks since the ordeal and hardly any pain.

He dressed quickly and hurried to meet Pepper upstairs. The car was running, Happy waiting outside to open his door. Ever the gentleman.

"Morning, sir."

"Mornin' Happy," Tony smiled. The sun was bright even through his glasses.

"There's coffee with Pepper in the backseat."

"Thank you, Happy."

"Of course, sir."

Tony climbed into the black SUV next to Pepper. She handed him a cardboard coffee cup. Black. Just like he liked it. He put his head back against the seat to wait.

“Did you read the files I sent last night about this meeting?”

At Tony’s blank gaze she sighed. “I’ll take that as a no?”

“Shoulda known better, Pep.”

“Fine, fine. We can go over it now.”

She started talking about some group of superheroes calling themselves the Avengers or something. He was only half listening. It didn’t matter, not really. The guys he was meeting with would explain it all over again.

He listened the rest of the car ride and all the way into the building. She finally stopped talking in the elevator, handing Tony a stack of files with the information she’d just gone over. It seemed rather excessive. He followed her into a conference room with darkened windows and a long mahogany table.

"Mr. Stark, thank you for meeting with us." Agent Coulson shook his hand.

"Please take a seat."

Tony sat at the table next to Pepper while Coulson shut the door. A man in all black, whom he presumed was Director Fury, leaned against the far wall, silent.

"Mr. Stark, we're here today to discuss-"

"The Avenger's Initiative. I know. Not interested. Will that be all?" Tony stood to leave.

"Tony, sit down,” Pepper said.

"Pep, I'm not interested. This is a waste of my time and theirs," Tony said. He remained seated, though.

"Mr. Stark, allow me to explain. We're gathering all of the best to become something greater. Something the world can rely on. And we want you, Mr. Stark, to be part of our team."

Tony remained silent. It wouldn't work. Too many big personalities. Too many egos. Too much history. They'd clash before they'd ever work. Even without Tony.

Coulson went on to talk about each person already signed on and the headquarters. Still, Tony wasn’t interested. He needed to clean up his own company before he could do anything else. To appease Pepper, he told Coulson he’d consider it and get back to them. Coulson shook his hand again and was gone. Fury remained behind.

"I'd like to speak to Mr. Stark, alone." He addressed Pepper. She looked at Tony for approval. He nodded. She squeezed his shoulder and walked out the door.

"Stark, I'm going to speak bluntly to you. I don't think you're right for the Avengers. You're not a team player, you only think of yourself, and frankly I don’t like your attitude."

"Then why are we here?"

“There are certain team members, and staff, who have expressed the benefits of you joining. Technological advancement, more influence, and to be frank, money. All things we sorely lack at the moment. However, I doubt they’ve considered how it would work once you do join. Once they face their first enemy. They haven’t thought it through."

"Well, I'm flattered you see my worth over there, but don't worry, sweetheart, I'm not planning on joining. I’ve got too much to do right now, coming back from the dead and all.”

Fury nodded.

"Fair warning, Mr. Stark," Fury said as Tony left, "Coulson will send others to convince you. He really wants you on board."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Tony left. Fury had only said what Tony had been thinking, but it didn't sit well in his stomach. Something about being told he shouldn't do something made him want to do it, and do it immediately. Didn't mean he wanted to join the mishmash team of superheroes, but still. Something about the project brought up Yinsen’s last words. It would be a way to make his sacrifice worth it. Whatever. The project wouldn't even get past the recruitment stage so he shouldn’t even be considering it.

"Tony, I really think you should join," Pepper said once they got in the car.

"Oh yeah, why's that Pep? Fury made it very clear he did not want me, and I agree with him. I don't play well with others."

"It'd be good for you, Tony. And for them. They need your brain, your ideas,"

"You mean they need my money? Yeah, that part, also clear."

"And so what if they do, Tony? You could make a difference with them. Save people."

"That's what I’m trying to do here, Pepper."

"Doesn’t seem to be working, Tony.”

"Obie's working on it. I talked to him yesterday. This is a multi-million dollar company, change takes time."

"Not if it's killing people, it doesn’t."

"What are you saying? That Obie isn't looking into it?"

"I'm just saying, Tony, that maybe Obie doesn't care as much about it as you. Maybe the zeroes at the end of his check mean more."

"Pepper, Obie's a friend. He practically raised me. He saw what our weapons did to me. And if he doesn't fix it, I’ll do it myself. It is my company after all. My last name."

They were silent.

"I just," She paused, "I just want you to be okay. Are you okay, Tony?"

"Yeah, Pep, I'm okay." Tony said. And though his eyes were burning and his chest felt tight when he inhaled, though he could hardly sleep and his own shower still sent him reeling, he really believed it. He was okay, or would be. He was back. Everything would be okay. 

* * *

"Tony, you down here?" Obie's voice broke his concentration.

"Yeah," he called back.

"Sir, shall I shut off the screens?"

Tony considered. Obie knew about his arc reactor, but he didn't know it wouldn't hold. If he knew, he might not let Tony shift production to arc tech and away from weapons. Plus, he didn't really want Obie involved in the things that went in his chest, or anyone involved for that matter.

"Sir, he's right outside."

"Yeah, JARVIS, switch it to something else."

"Of course, sir. And might I remind you there are blueprints on the table by the door."

"Thanks JARVIS." Tony swiped the blueprints into a drawer in the desk and pulled out a set of arrows Coulson asked him to look at. They weren't staying in the magnetized sheath like they were supposed to. Tony said he'd take a look. In theory it was a simple fix.

"Tony, what're you working on?"

"Just some stuff for uh, a friend."

"Would this friend happen to be associated with an Agent Coulson or a Mr. Fury who you met with earlier today?"

"You spying on me Obie?"

"You seem to forget a Ms. Potts relies on my paychecks each week." Obie raised his eyebrows.

"Technically, they’re my paychecks. It being my money and all." Tony said. Obie sent him a strange look. Like he knew something Tony didn’t.

“So what do you need?” Tony asked.

"Well, I came to make sure you weren't actually considering joining that train-wreck of a group, making sure you had your head on straight."

Tony, since the meeting, actually had been considering it. Going over his options.

He didn't respond, just fiddled with the arrow in his hand.

"Because, if you were thinking clearly, you'd know how terrible you'd fit in that situation. You'd never show up on time, you'd make choices just for yourself. And that's not a bad, thing, Tony. It works here, but, I just don't think you're of the hero material they're looking for. Put you in a life or death situation and it may not work as well. You work better alone, always have. That's why you have me to run things while you do this all day." He gestured around Tony's workshop.

"We need your focus on this arc technology if we're going to shift our production and have it yield stable results, not to go gallivanting around with a bunch of superheroes in tights."

Tony nodded.

"Good, glad we're on the same page. We've got to stick together in things like this. I brought some pizza for you, it's upstairs. Want me to bring it down?"

"No, I'll eat later. Thanks."

He fiddled with the arrow until Obie’s footsteps couldn’t be heard any longer.

There was something off about what Obie had said. His phrasing. _If_ they were going to shift production. Had he really said if? Tony hadn't thought there was even a question about it. And the amount of people telling him he wasn't right for the Avengers was, pissing him off.

They were right, of course. He'd be terrible working in a team that part was true. And he'd always been selfish, he knew that. But, something screamed at him to do it, that he could do it. He didn’t feel like the same person from before the cave.

He shook it off, he'd think about it later. Right now he needed to figure out a way to stabilize the shrapnel in his chest or there would be no Tony Stark alive to join the Avengers.

"JARVIS,"

"Screens are already back up, sir.”


	2. Chapter 2

Steve opened the door to Stark's apartment tower and stepped into the living room. The room was silent around him. A box of pizza sat on the counter, untouched.

"Hello?" Steve called out. No answer.

Coulson had warned him Tony might not be home or not conscious. He’d asked him to talk to Tony about the Avengers, to see if Steve could connect in a way Coulson couldn't. He'd agreed. Steve actually wanted Tony to join. He’d seen how he’d gotten out of his kidnapping and how he’d bounced back. Banner had been raving about Stark ever since his arc technology. 

He wandered down the steps into what he thought would be Tony's workshop. It’s where Coulson told him to check first. He tried the door, but a robotic and vaguely British voice spoke at him.

"Sir, you are not authorized to enter this area."

"Oh, sorry. I'm here to see Mr. Stark. Mr. Coulson said he might be down here."

"I'll try to wake him, Mr. Rogers. You may wait upstairs if it would be more comfortable. I can brew coffee if you’d like."

"Sure, that'd be great. Thank you, Mr...?"

"My name's JARVIS, sir."

"Well, thank you Mr. JARVIS."

Steve walked back upstairs and followed the smell of coffee into the kitchen. He found the fridge stocked with, well, everything.

"Um, JARVIS?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Would it be okay if I made breakfast? Since Mr. Stark's asleep? You could let him get ready while I make it?"

"Of course, Mr. Rogers. If you need anything, let me know."

Steve pulled out everything, eggs, bacon, bread, sausage, pancake mix. He popped bread into the toaster and got to work on the eggs, bacon and sausage. The pancakes he made last, adding chocolate chips, his favorite, to a few just in case Tony wanted some too.

"Sir?"

The voice startled Steve. "Yes?"

"I seem to be unable to wake Mr. Stark. I'm terribly sorry. This happens when he’s having nightmares. I'll contact Pepper and have her retrieve you and bring you back when he is awake. "

Nightmares? Steve knew all about those.

"Uh, JARVIS, would it be alright if I tried to wake him?"

"I'm not sure Mr. Stark would be pleased with me, sir."

"Please? I mean I made all this food and I don’t want it to go to waste. It couldn’t hurt to try could it?"

"I suppose not, sir, but if he gets angry, it’s on you."

Steve chuckled. "Deal."

Steve turned the heat off the food, leaving it all in the pans so it would stay warm and he went back down to the workshop. This time the door opened.

Inside was mayhem. Mechanical bits and bobs were scattered everywhere, suits of armor stood against the walls, screens bigger than he'd ever seen flashed blueprints and news footage in silence. A much too small couch in the corner held a curled up Tony Stark, shirtless and barefoot. He called out in his sleep. Oh, right, nightmares.

"Tony?" Steve called out softly. Nothing. He tried again louder. Still no response.

He knelt before the couch and reached out a hand, laying it gently on Tony's shoulder.

"Mr. Stark?"

His eyes shot open and he jerked forward gasping. Steve put his hands up and took a few steps back. His eyes caught on the metal circle in Tony's chest. Must be his arc reactor. He'd heard all about it through the news and through Coulson, but it hit him just now how real it all was. Here was a real person who'd gone through all this.

Tony sat with his head between his knees, gasping.

"Sorry, Mr. Stark. I'll go get you a water."

"No, no water," He gasped out. Then his eyes shot to Steve and he scrambled to cover his chest.

"It's okay, I already know about your...history," Steve said, gesturing to his chest.

Tony got up anyways and grabbed a black tank top from the floor, yanking it over his torso. The glow from the reactor was still visible, but it hid most of it. He looked up Steve then.

"Uh, hi. I'm Steve."

"Yeah, I know who you are, America's sweetheart."

"Right, well I made some food while I was waiting. I’ll wait upstairs while you catch your bearings.” Tony frowned.

"Are you sure I can’t get you water or anything?” Tony shook his head. On the way out he could hear Tony berating JARVIS. He'd tell Tony it was his fault as soon as he came upstairs. Right now, though, he needed to give the guy some space. Steve knew first-hand how jarring it was to wake up from a nightmare. The panic and fear always felt too real long after he woke up. Sometimes his fingers would feel frozen for the rest of the day no matter how much he told himself it wasn’t real.

Back upstairs, Steve split up the food onto plates and got to work on the mess he’d made. Twenty minutes later, a still-dripping Tony padded upstairs in a thick black t-shirt and jeans to find Steve scrubbing dishes at his sink.

Steve smiled at him, and kept scrubbing the pan in his hands.

"You know, I have a dishwasher for that exact reason," Tony said.

Steve looked around, eyes focusing on the dishwasher in the corner. It hadn’t even occurred to him to look for one, so used to washing dishes by hand. He felt himself flush red.

"Ah, I keep forgetting. You didn't have that sort of thing when you grew up, did you?"

Steve shook his head.

"Did you make all this?" Tony asked, looking at the heaping plate of food and the two mugs of coffee on the table, complete with silverware and a napkin each. Steve nodded.

"Well I'll be damned, Boy Scout knows how to cook." Tony sat down at the table and dug in.

Steve finished the dishes and walked to the table, wiping his hands with a dishtowel. He tossed it aside and sat down. Steve cut his food into little pieces, a habit he developed from his childhood. Little pieces made it easier to avoid choking. With the serum all the problems with his throat were gone now, but the habit stayed behind. He sort of liked it, a comfort to him in a way.

He looked up to find Tony watching him. Steve felt another blush start in his cheeks He knew it was odd, but he couldn't help it.

"So, I'm assuming Coulson sent you? Try to convince Iron Man to join and you'll earn some brownie points?"

Steve frowned. "Tony, I, _we_ want you on this team because you would be an asset to the team.”

"Yeah and so would my money," Tony grumbled into his plate.

Steve opened his mouth to protest, but he didn't know what to say. Sure, the money Stark would bring would be a great help, but that wasn’t all they wanted. He just didn’t know how to convince him of that.  

"Don't worry, Fury made it clear that's all you're after. My answer's still no."

That was fast. He didn't even let Steve try. Steve hadn’t really had a plan to be honest, but he’d wanted to try to talk to him at least. He sighed. The morning hadn’t gone at all like he’d planned. He shrugged. He would try again later.

"Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Stark. It was nice to meet you. I'm sure Coulson will send me around again soon."

“Thanks for the grub. Haven’t eaten in a while.”

Steve looked pointedly at the pizza box on the counter.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. Got lost in work, you know.” Tony rubbed the back of his neck.

Steve said goodbye and he left. No point in sticking around. He rethought that decision when back at headquarters, he was handed a stack of paperwork on the new trainees. Three hours later, his back was aching and he wasn't even a quarter done. But work was work, and he kept at it. At the end of the day, he went back to his little apartment.

That night was an empty one, no dreams. A blessing. Though, sometimes he wished for them if only to see his friend’s faces again. He wished he could do that without the guilt and panic and fear that came along with it.

The next morning, Coulson sent him once again to Stark Tower. It was worth a shot.

This time, he found Stark at his kitchen table, half asleep and nursing a cup of coffee. He hardly reacted when Steve walked in.

"Save it."

Steve poured himself a cup of coffee and leaned against the kitchen island.

"I'm serious," Tony said as Steve opened his mouth, "save it. Don't want to hear it. Not today."

"Fine, fine. I did come all the way out here though, would it be alright if I hung around? I told my driver she could drive her kid to school in the limo this morning. A surprise for her daughter."

Tony shrugged. "Why the hell not. Just no more charming JARVIS into breaking rules for you."

"That seems fair."

"Alrighty then. I'm going down to do some work. Make yourself comfortable wherever, JARVIS can help you with anything you need."

And he was gone. Steve looked around. He wished he'd brought his sketchbook. Maybe Tony had one lying around?

"JARVIS?"

"Mr. Rogers?"

"Would you happen to know if there's a sketchbook lying around?"

"I believe Mr. Stark keeps them downstairs in the workshop, sir. Would you like me to ask him?"

"No, that's okay. I'll ask him myself."

Steve walked down the steps, making sure his feet hit the steps loud enough to announce his arrival. He didn't know if Tony wanted him to see what he was doing.

"Mr. Stark?"

"In here," Tony called from deeper in the workshop. He was hunched over a counter that was surrounded by screens projecting what looked like the thing in his chest. The arc reactor.

"Uh, sorry, JARVIS said you might have a spare sketchbook down here?"

"Top drawer of that desk in the corner. Pencils and stuff should be in the drawer underneath it. I don't have anything fancy, but" He trailed off. Steve waited for more but it didn't come. He must have gotten distracted.

"Thanks." Steve grabbed an empty sketchbook and a pencil and went back upstairs to settle on the couch. He sketched the skyline out the window. The day was clear, the sun reflecting off the glass windows of the office buildings.

* * *

 

The day after he took one look at Tony and knew he wouldn’t listen. He looked like he hadn’t slept, his hair stuck out in all directions. Steve wondered briefly if he’d eaten. Maybe he’d order some food. Steve followed Tony down to the workshop, he thought he’d find something to draw there.

Steve sank onto the couch and flipped his sketchbook open. He let his mind wander, sketching out the tower and the room, but his eyes kept flicking to Tony and the screens around him. He couldn't help being curious. Tony was frowning down at the piece in his hands, face only inches from it while he worked. Occasionally he'd glance at the screens or wave his hands to move it. Sometimes he'd talk to JARVIS, ask him to read off some statistic or something. It was fluid, though, smooth. A ballet. Steve could tell he was comfortable here, like this, in a way Steve hadn't been comfortable in a while. Steve opened his mouth to ask what Tony was doing before shutting it. He didn’t want to interrupt.

“You can ask,” Tony said. Huh? Steve realized Tony was looking at him over the counter.

“You can ask me whatever you were going to ask. It doesn’t bother me. I tend to babble when I’m working anyway, which you’ve probably heard already.”

“Okay, then, uh I was just wondering what you were working on?”

Tony launched into an explanation Steve had trouble following after the first sentence. He’d gathered that it was improving the design of the arc reactor, but the specifics were lost on him. While Tony talked, Steve muttered the occasional noise to show he was listening and sketched the man instead. Well, his hands really. His hands were beautiful. Graceful and grease stained, but oddly beautiful.

Steve's phone vibrated in the pocket of his khaki's, startling g him out of his trance. He'd been sketching for a while now while Tony talked.

"Oh, my driver’s here. Thanks for explaining. See you later.” Steve left his sketchbook on the couch. Tony tossed a goodbye over his shoulder after an awkwardly long pause, like it had taken his brain a little too long to realize what Steve had said. Steve chuckled. It was exactly what Tony would do.   

* * *

 

Steve got wrapped up in training the next two days, running drills and lecturing the new guys. Coulson sent him to Starks the second day after drills when Steve was exhausted and hoarse from talking. He'd much rather have gone home to shower and sleep. But an order was an order.

The living room was empty and darkened, so he started walking down the steps to the workshop. On the stairs, he ran into Pepper.

"Oh, Mr. Rogers. Tony's asleep, but I do have something to discuss with you upstairs if you'll follow me." Steve obliged, his eye catching on what she was holding in her hands. It looked like Tony's arc reactor. In her hands. Covered in some sort of bodily fluid. Steve couldn't come up with a single logical solution, so he followed in silence. He assumed she'd address this upstairs. He assumed correctly.

Pepper sat him down, put a cup of coffee in front of him, and started talking. She told him about Tony's time in the cave and all about the reactor, most of which he already knew.

"So, if you're going to start coming around, or your teammates are, I'd like you to debrief them first. Tony doesn't like answering questions about this. He’d prefer for no one to know at all, but I think it’s important for you to know."

Steve nodded. It was valuable information to have if Tony was going to be a teammate of theirs. He doubted anyone else would be coming around like Steve was. They all had lives outside of work. Steve…didn’t.

"You can use this as a model or give it to your tech guys for studying. I was planning on framing it as proof Tony Stark actually has a heart. It'll be much more useful to you."

Steve chuckled. He wiped off the piece of metal and put it in one of the pockets of his uniform for later.


	3. Chapter 3

Tony's chest ached. Like someone had punched into his chest and carved him out. Which was, technically true. He had made this one much more sustainable, what with JARVIS’s help and actual tools instead of rusted metal like before. It would last long enough to find something permanent. Hopefully. No, definitely. It definitely would. He was Tony Stark, he build anything. He just needed to find a material to make it out of.

He rolled out of bed and padded out to the smell of coffee. He was glad he’d chosen to find his bed for collapsing last night. And by chosen, he’d let Pepper steer him up the stairs to his bed after Steve left as opposed to him crashing on the couch. Now, with how badly his chest hurt, he knew it was a good idea.  

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Have something nice sent to Pepper, please. Something she'll like."

"Right away sir."

Good, good. She deserved it.

"Sir, I might warn you that one Mr. Rogers is upstairs."

Hm. Avengers must not be all that exciting if he kept hanging around Tony’s place. He shrugged and walked into the kitchen.

"Mornin', Cap," Tony said, heading straight to the coffee maker to pour himself a cup. He turned around and leaned against the counter, taking a sip. It was _fucking delicious_. Much better than it had ever been. He let out an involuntary moan into his cup.

"JARVIS, you change the coffee?"

"I believe Mr. Rogers beat me to it this morning, sir."

Tony turned to look at Steve, who was watching him from the couch in the living room. At JARVIS’s announcement, he ducked his head.

"Sorry, I didn't want to bother JARVIS. I won’t do it again."

"Not like it, it's literally the best coffee I've ever had. JARVIS?"

"Sir?"

"You're not allowed to make coffee ever again if Steve's here, capiche?"

"Yes, sir. I capiche."

That settled, Tony flopped onto the couch next to Steve, throwing an arm over is eyes. Maybe he could fall back asleep for a little while.

"Tony, what the _hell_?" Huh? Tony peeked out from under his arm to find Steve’s eyes on his chest. Tony looked down. Oh. Dark purple bruising surrounded the edges of the arc reactor, making the puckered and pink scars look even worse. He forgot he hadn’t put a shirt on when he rolled out of bed.

"Oh, uh, I-" Before he could finish, Steve had tossed his book aside and crouched in front of him, his face inches from Tony’s chest. He ran a thumb along the edges of the bruises, pressing gently against the bones underneath. Tony could feel the puffs of breath from his lips. Steve pressed closer to the center and Tony let out an involuntary hiss of pain. Steve, startled, looked up at him. His eyes were blue, so blue he expected waves from the ocean to move in them. Tony was transfixed. It was a weird image, Captain America on his knees, but weirder still was the fact that Tony wasn't against it. In fact, his body seemed to really, really like that image.

"Well," Steve said and Tony tore his gaze away. "I don’t feel any broken bones. Wait here.”

Steve got up, leaving Tony's chest cold where his hands had been. Tony leaned against the back of the couch. Shit, he should have realized there'd be bruising. It made sense. JARVIS had even warned him. Sorta. In his own JARVIS-ey way. But it was too late now.

Steve came back with an icepack and some ibuprofen. Tony briefly wondered how he found this stuff. Tony couldn’t even find it and it was his house. He took the pills Steve handed him. The icepack Steve laid on his chest, using his other arm to manhandle Tony into a laying down position on his back so he didn’t have to hold the ice.

"Tony, what happened?" Steve whispered into the silent room.

"Oh, just had to replace the old one yesterday. No biggie."

"So it's alright now? I mean, I know sort of how it works, but it's going to last now?"

"Yup," Tony said. In theory. Steve seemed to relax at that. Probably didn't want to deal with Tony dropping dead on him. Imagine explaining that to Coulson.

Steve went back to reading, then. Tony frowned. Wasn't Steve here to convince him to join the Avengers? He hadn't even mentioned it this morning. Maybe he got the idea? But then why would he keep coming around? Tony gave up trying to guess his reasoning and made a move to go work or something. Steve’s hand shot out, pressing on his stomach until he laid back down. He hadn’t even looked up from reading.

"Ice for 15, Tony."

"Are you joking?" Steve raised his eyebrows.

"Ugh, fine. What are you, my girlfriend?"

"Don't think your girlfriend would have muscles like mine," Steve shot back, but he pulled his hand away from where it rested on Tony’s stomach.

"Oh yeah, and what makes you think I don't like muscles?"

Steve shrugged, kept his eyes on the page.

"I'm serious, I'm an all-inclusive kinda guy, Steve-o. Girls, guys, muscles, squish, tall, short, top, bottom, it's all the game for me."

“That’s great Tony, really. Doesn’t erase the fact that you need to ice your goddamn chest.”

Tony faked a gasp. “Captain America cussing, oh my stars.”

“Tony,” Steve said.

“Cap?”

“Shut up and ice your chest.”

Tony huffed. He wasn’t being any fun.

“Read to me then. I’m bored.”

“You’ve been sitting there for two minutes.”

“Like I said, bored. Read boy scout.”

Sighing, Steve began to read. Tony hardly listened, instead getting lulled to sleep by the sound of his voice. It was soothing. He fell asleep not long after Steve started.

He woke up a few hours later to find the book Steve was reading on the couch, a note tucked into its pages. ‘Tony- had to go train the new recruits. I changed your ice before I left. More ice and ibuprofen. See you later. –Steve’

Tony snorted. Like he’d care where Steve went. But, instead of crumpling the note up, he tucked it into the pocket of his sweatpants.  

* * *

"Tony?"

Obie called down. Tony didn't bother responding, he'd be able to see him in another five steps.

"There you are. I heard from Pepper you had a little problem?" Obie’s eyes darted to Tony's now covered chest. Shit. Tony really needed to talk to Pepper about his _private_ information.

"It's fine now. I’ve got it covered."

"But will it last? You need something to last a lifetime, Tony."

"I'm working on it, right JARVIS."

"Right, sir."

"See, even JARVIS says so. It must be true."

"Let's see what you've got? Maybe I can have some of my people take a look at it. They wouldn't have to know what it was for, just the basics."

"No. I've got it."

"Can _I_ at least look? We are a team, after all. Aren't we? We're in this together."

Tony hesitated, but handed over an older blueprint. Not the most recent by any means, but the bare bones were the same. It'd appease Obie without giving everything away. They were a team, but Tony felt a lot better if he had this to himself.

"I'll take a look tonight or tomorrow and let you know. I'm glad you're alright, Tony. Got anything for that arc tech I sent over to you last night?"

"Haven't even looked at it yet, I'll do it tonight."

"Do, Tony. We need something stable before we start to shut down weapons."

"Start? You haven't even started? Obie it's been a month since I've been back, over a week since I asked."

"How many times do we need to go over this, Tony? The company won't make it if we don't have a solid foundation in something else _before_ we switch. Have I ever led you wrong?"

Tony shook his head, but something wasn’t sitting right. He'd wanted this all done already. How many more people would have to die?

Obie left soon after, rolled blueprints in his hand. Tony lost all motivation to do anything. He'd look at Obie's stuff tomorrow. Tonight he felt like sleeping.

And sleep is what he did. It was almost noon by the time he woke up. A quick shower and he made good on his promise to Obie from the night before. One look at the stuff Obie sent and Ton’s blood boiled all over again. Obie sent over blueprints for a missile run on arc tech. And suits of armor. What the actual fuck. He had missed the entire point. Tony wanted to get _away_ from weaponry, not advance it into something more powerful. People were dying. _He_ almost died.

For now he pushed the blueprints aside and switched to his arc reactor. Obie would be down to check on him soon enough. They’d hash it out then.

"JARVIS, how long on this one?"

"A few weeks, sir.”

A few weeks? That was hardly any time at all. Shit. He needed to figure this out.

He spent the rest of the day tearing his hair trying to figure out what he was missing. He spent probably way too much money to order material to try out, but nothing seemed to be working. He was just wasting his money and his time at this point.

He resorted to trying palladium, like he was using right now, but he thought maybe if he changed how he built it, it might hold up longer.

"Knock, knock," Steve called from the top of the stairs.

"Hang on a sec." Tony scrambled for a shirt. The bruises hadn't started to fade for whatever reason and he really did not want to deal with a mother henning Steve right now. He couldn’t afford to take a break.

"Alright, come on down."

Steve was frowning the minute he could see Tony. Great. Tony braced himself for a lecture. Nothing came.

"Something wrong, Steve?"

"Nope, keep working. I didn't mean to interrupt."

Shrugging, Tony did just that, quickly getting lost in the work again. A few time he saw Steve moving around him, but he wasn't focused enough to see what he was doing.

Tony gave up after...he didn't know how long it had been. But it had failed, once again, and he couldn't think about it anymore. He was starving and brain fried. He needed a break. Steve was nowhere in sight. Great, just when he needed a distraction the guy was gone.

Around him, the workshop seemed different. Blanket folded on the couch, visible counter-tops, empty trashcan. Steve cleaned. Steve had cleaned up his workshop and, from the noises he was just noticing, was still upstairs.

* * *

 "Hey! Thought you'd never come out," Steve called from the couch. He was watching something on the TV, something animated and recognizably Disney. Tony made a beeline for the fridge.

"Oh, I made you a sandwich, top shelf."

"Oh my god, I could kiss you," Tony said, snatching the saran wrap from around the plate, and taking a huge bite. He poured himself a glass of water and joined Steve on the couch.

"Whatcha watching?"

"Oh, Hercules. I‘m trying to catch up on pop culture and these came highly recommended. Did you want to watch something else? I can go if I’m in the way?"

"No, no it's fine. Mind if I watch too?"

"Course not.”

"You know you didn't have to clean my workshop," Tony said.

"I know, but you seemed busy and I didn't have anything else to do. Plus, it was kinda bothering me.”

Tony shrugged. It was true. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d honest to god cleaned something.

They watched in silence for a little while, side by side. Their shoulders touched. It was comfortable, the movie light and comical. Something about it seemed to really interest Steve. He hardly even glanced at Tony throughout the whole thing.

When the movie was over, Tony decided he should go back to work. But, he just wasn’t in the mood to think about the reactor. Maybe he’d do something else.

"I'm heading back down if you wanna come listen to me ramble or whatever. Up to you." He didn't wait for Steve to respond, he just slid off the couch, put his plate in the sink, and left.

Downstairs, he pulled out the arrows for Clint again. It wouldn't take too long to finish them. Plus, he was going to go crazy if he didn’t actually fix something soon. Steve took a seat on one of the stools near Tony, sketchbook in hand.

"Are those Clint’s arrows?”

“Yeah, I think so. Coulson asked me to take a look.”

“But, I don’t understand. Why would you help us out with stuff like this, but you won’t join? Team of superheroes seems much more you than fixing things behind the scenes.”

Tony snorted. "That’s the thing. I’m not a superhero."

"What do you mean? Of course you are."

"No, you see," Tony put down the arrows, "a hero has to choose it. I didn't choose this. You, you did. You volunteered. You wanted to save people. Me? I should be dead. But instead, people keep getting killed because of me, dying for me. It was all revenge for me.”

"You killed the bad guys, Tony. Doesn’t really matter why."

"No, I escaped. I saved _myself_. There's a difference."

"Not in my book. Not really."

"Steve, the only reason this arc tech even exists was for a publicity stunt. The only reason I was there that day was to promote my weapons. It’s money. Always has been.”

"Then why build a suit? And why keep improving it?"

"I need something to protect me, didn't I?"

"But not anymore, so what's it all for?"

Tony shrugged. He wasn't sure why he kept building the suits, improving them. It was fun, in a way. He got to _imagine_ he could actually be a hero with a uniform.

"Don't you get it, Steve? I don't want this. I just want to go back to running my company. Life was so much simpler that way."

"But, you were killing people."

"Sometimes, I wish I'd never found out."

Steve sighed. They weren’t getting anywhere.

"I've already made too much of a stain to ever even the slate. I appreciate the offer, really I do, but I can't. I need to clean up this company before I can do anything else. My name's on it, Steve. My father's name. I can't drag it through the mud. I have a reputation to uphold. Find someone else. "

"There is no one else. We need you, Tony."

"No, you don't. You don't even know me."

Silence. Steve was staring at him, Tony could feel his eyes. He kept his own down, fiddling with the arrows.

"You're not the only one who didn't ask for all this," Steve said softly.

Tony was silent. Steve was too. He stood up from his stool and walked towards the door.

"None of us chose this. What we did choose, is what we did with the hand we were dealt. We help people, save people. I don’t see why you wouldn’t want to do the same.”

Tony sat for a minute after he left. Steve had _literally_ volunteered to do the experiment. He chose this. Though, Tony supposed, he hadn’t chosen this time period. Or for all his friend to die. He had some say in it though, more than Tony had.

"JARVIS, you didn’t choose Hercules by accident, did you?”

JARVIS remained silent.

“JARVIS?”

“I simply chose the movie Mr. Rogers had the most potential to relate to. He’s been struggling with adaptation, according to Agent Coulson.”

Hm. Tony thought back over the movie. He drew parallels easily after that. Why hadn’t he seen it before?


	4. Chapter 4

Steve didn't see the point in throwing a welcome home party for Tony at this point. It had been two months since he’d actually come home. But, Tony had asked him to go. They’d been lounging in the workshop, Steve sketching Tony for the hundredth time while he worked, when Tony had asked.

“They’re throwing a party for me next week if you want to come.”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yeah, sure. That would be cool.”

So Steve got a suit and here he was.

Steve wasn't exactly sure _why_ Tony asked him to go. To have a friendly face, he supposed. Though, Tony was a popular person in these crowds, so Steve wouldn't be making much of a difference. He'd been on the fence about going but Tony had asked so seriously, he couldn’t say no.

Steve wiped his hands on the thighs of his black suit pants and got out of the SUV. Around him was chaos. But, the intentional, concentrated sort. Safe chaos. The flashings of the camera and the yelling, while overwhelming, wasn’t dangerous. It was expected. Steve felt much more comfortable in chaos like this than chaos on the battlefield. That was a completely different kind.

He pasted a smile on his face and stepped forward to start the train of pictures and questions to the doorway when an arm wrapped around his waist.

"Hey," Tony said.

"Hey. Thought you'd be here by now."

Together they stepped forward to the first spot for pictures.

"Nah, I made Happy stop for burgers. Had a craving." Tony leaned in to whisper, his breath brushing Steve's ear. One look at Tony's face told Steve he was completely serious. Steve burst out laughing. It was just so Tony. Late to his own damn party because he wanted a hamburger.

They moved down the carpet, stopping to say a few words to reporters or pose for pictures until finally, they reached the doors. Steve loved talking to the people, to his people, but it got exhausting after a while. He could only be perfect for so long.

Through the doors, glass sparkled everywhere, windows, chandelier, glasses, ceiling. Heels clacked across the floor, drinks clinked against each other, chatter filled the room. Something seemed missing, though. Steve couldn't quite place it.

"You clean up well," Tony whispered to him.

“Thanks, you do too, Tony.”

Tony turned to say something, but someone called for Tony, placing a hand on his shoulder. Steve realized just how close they were standing to each other and stepped back. Tony got sucked into the crowd, calling out greetings and shaking hands.

Steve frowned. This is the Tony he’d been expecting when he walked into Stark Tower. Not the sleep-ruffled human that had appeared. Seeing him now, after seeing him at home, Steve realized how much of a front he actually put up for these people. He was hiding everything. Here, he became bigger, grander, golden. Steve didn’t like it. He never had. But now, when he knew how Tony could be, how he could ramble and laugh and fall asleep everywhere, now he hated it.  

Steve skirted the crowds and found an empty table near the dancefloor. He could watch the dancers, he’d always liked watching people spin around and make fools of themselves. It was endearing, in a way. Music from this decade blasted over the speakers, fast and loud. He could feel the beat in his chest.

Tony found him a little later, two drinks in hand and a crowd of people following him.

"Hey Steve, got you a drink."

"Tony, you know I can't get drunk," Steve frowned.

"More for me then, wonder Boy." Tony sank into the chair next to Steve. He looked tense. Tony had taken to calling him Wonder Boy ever since they’d watched Hercules.

"If I’m Hercules, who does that make you?” Steve asked.

Tony looked at him, his eyes bright.

"Meg," he said and threw back his head to laugh. Steve couldn't help it and started laughing, too. He then realized what the party had been missing. Laughter. All these people and all these conversations and no one was laughing. But they were, Tony was. And that's all that mattered.

The band slowed down the music, something more from Steve's time than Tony's.

“Well, I’m going to go dance. Care to join me?”

“Nah, I’ll just watch.”

Tony blinked at him before leaving the table. That was odd. Steve shrugged it off. He watched Tony pull Pepper onto the floor and spin her around, goofing around more than anything. But, they were happy. Or at least enjoying themselves, that much was obvious. Tony looked more like the Tony Steve knew.

Steve glanced around. People were still spilling through the doors, flooding the room. He could hardly hear himself think, the chatter grew so loud.

“Come, on Steve, come dance with me,” Tony appeared in front of him, breathless and flushed.

“No, I don’t really know how.”

“Come on, it’s easy. It’s my party, you can’t say no.”

“Fine,” Steve slid his hand into Tony’s and let Tony lead him to the floor. Tony kept their hands linked, put his other hand on Steve’s hip. Steve, following his lead, slid his other hand to Tony’s shoulder. This much he knew. He followed Tony’s lead after that and they swayed to the soft music drifting over the floor.

“Thanks for coming, Steve,” Tony whispered. It sounded so genuine and soft, Steve couldn’t think of a response. He just squeezed Tony’s hand and kept dancing. Tony knew, right? He knew that at this point, Steve would do a lot for Tony if he just asked. Steve was realizing how rare it was for Tony to ask for things.

They danced until the song dissolved into another and then they danced some more. At one point, Tony tried to spin Steve, but Steve was too tall and he ended up hitting Steve in the head with his arm, sending both of them into fits of laughter. Steve was almost crying he was laughing so hard.

"Captain Rogers, a word?" Coulson's hand clamped on his shoulder. Steve wiped his eyes, still chuckling and nodded. He shot an apologetic look to Tony, who waved him off. He followed Coulson into a secluded hallway.

"While I don’t necessarily see how _that_ is convincing Stark to join the Avengers, that’s now what we need to discuss. These,” he handed Steve a stack of photos, “have just been brought to my attention.”

Steve flicked through the pictures. Grainy photos of buildings in crumbles, smoke billowing into the sky. It was obvious the city had been attacked.

"But, what's this got to do with Ton- Mr. Stark?"

"Mr. Stark’s weapons were used to do that.”

Steve frowned. It couldn’t be. Tony had said he was shutting down weapons. Steve wondered if he knew about this. He’d have to tell him. Tonight.

"If you'll excuse me Mr. Coulson, I need to have a word with Mr. Stark."

"Of course. And Steve?" Steve turned around. "I wouldn’t put too much stock into your…interactions with Mr. Stark, given his history.”

Steve felt a flush creep up his face. He nodded and ducked out of the hallway, scanning the room. No sign of Tony. He saw Pepper in the corner, though, so he made his way to her. She’d know where Tony was.

"Steve, good to see you. How is everything?"

“It’s good. Listen, I need to talk to Tony. Do you know where he is?”

"He left just now. Sorry,” Pepper seemed to pity Steve. He didn’t understand.

“Left?”

“Yeah, something came up.” From her look, though, Steve knew she was holding something back. He connected the dots. Oh. _Oh._ He’d _left_. As in found a person to leave with. Got it. Steve’s mind flitted to the large group of girls, and guys, that had followed Tony around. He vaguely wondered which one it was. Something acidic and red boiled in his stomach. Something he didn’t want to think about.

"Can you just tell Tony to give me a call? It's important."

"Of course, Steve."

"Right, thank you."

Steve made his way to the side exit and slipped out. The party suddenly lost its appeal. The lights were no longer sparkling, but too bright. The music made his head hurt. Steve shed his jacket and called a taxi. He went home.


	5. Chapter 5

It was a lie. Tony had gone home alone. He told Pepper to tell Steve he'd picked someone up and then he left. Tony didn't sleep around like he used to. The whole hole in his chest freaked people out, so he tended to avoid that situation all together. It hadn't ever made him feel any better anyways.

Instead he went home to work. Get his mind off the things that kept playing. Steve in his suit. Steve laughing at one of his jokes. Steve’s hand in his. It was coming off as creepy and completely inappropriate, which made Tony’s fucked up brain like it even more.

So he’d gone home to work. He needed to anyway, his time was dwindling. Two weeks and counting. He hadn’t made much progress by the time he’d fallen asleep, pencil still clutched in his hand, face on the table. Thank god he hadn’t been working with welding.

“Tony?” Pepper’s voice startled him awake.

"Too early. Let me sleep."

"Nope."

"But mom, five more minutes?"

"Tony, did you get my texts last night?"

"Sure did, Pep."

"So have you talked to Steve? He says it's important."

"Nope."

"Tony, why won't you talk to Steve?" Tony shrugged.

"I will, I will.” He just had to get over this ridiculous fluttering in his chest when he thought about the man. He was fucking Captain America, he couldn’t have a crush on Captain America. He’d never go for a guy like Tony. He didn’t even know if he went for guys at all. It was too much to think about. So, he ignored it and thought about saving his own life instead.

"Tony, why did you make me lie to Steve?”

Tony shrugged and kept his eyes anywhere but on Pepper’s.

“Holy shit,” Pepper said, “you like him.” Tony laughed, feigning nonchalant.

“What are you talking about Pep?” Inside he was paralyzed. Thank god he’d been acting his whole life.

“Don’t you dare, Anthony Stark. You like him.”

“So what if I do, huh?”

“Oh, Tony. That’s why I had to lie. You’re doing your typical “I-don’t-deserve-love” self-hate bullshit by pushing him away.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Every time someone you actually like comes around, you send them running. That’s how I know you’ve got it bad.”

Tony stayed silent.

“Tony, he likes you, too, you know.”

“Even _if_ this was true, _if_ I liked Captain America, and I do mean _if_ , there’s no way in hell he’d ever like me back.”

“Tony Stark, do you not see the way he looks at you? The way he keeps coming around time and time again? The way he says yes to anything you ask?”

“He’s Mr. Boy Scout, Mr. Wonder Boy, America’s Sweetheart, of course he’s polite.”

Pepper sighed.

“Well, I’ve got work to do. Any chance you brought coffee?”

“It’s upstairs. I’ll bring it down. Tony-“

“Nope, coffee first.”

She threw her hands up, exasperated. Tony smirked. Exasperated Pepper was better than Prying Pepper.

* * *

 

He had JARVIS searching for other material he could try, Clint’s arrows were done, and Obie’s blueprints were still weapons. Tony didn't have anything to do. He glanced around the room. His eyes landed on the Steve’s sketchbook. Well, curiosity did kill the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. He flipped it open. He recognized skyline from the window upstairs, lines harsh and bold. The next page was the tower. Then the view from the roof. Tony flipped ahead a few more. Hands. Lots of hands. His lines were a lot sloppier, but softer and smoother. Elegant. The hands looked graceful. Tony wondered whose hands they were.

"What are you doing with that?" Steve asked from the doorway. Tony tried not to jump and flipped it closed immediately.

"Sorry, couldn't help myself."

"It's fine. You can look at them, I don’t mind. I need to talk to you, though."

"Okay, then, talk."

"Tony, I need a confirmation that your weapons are no longer in production.”

“As far as I know, yeah.”

“Then, what, might I ask, are these?”

Steve shoved a stack of pictures at his chest. Tony took them, flipped through them. He felt the blood go cold. Gulmira. Yinsen’s hometown. It was destroyed. How the hell did they get his weapons? His mind was racing.

“Mr. Stark, this needs to be taken care of or we will take care of it for you.”

Steve’s tone was weird. He sound robotic. A soldier meeting his mission. Somehow, it made the whole thing worse. Steve turned on his heel and left.

 "JARVIS?" Tony said once he left.

"Sir?"

"Prepare the suit."

"Sir, I must warn you that extended strain on the arc reactor will deplete the remaining,”

“I don’t care. Prepare the suit.”

"Right away sir."

Tony now had something to do. Something that might right some wrongs he’d left behind.

* * *

 

Flying was one of Tony’s favorite things to do. To be able to look down on the city, it made everything seem so distant. There was Steve’s apartment, where Steve was dreaming. There was Tony’s home, where he was dying. All the way down there.

But, he had work to do. So he did it. He landed back at home, exhaustion in his bones, to find the lights on. JARVIS waited up for him. 

"Welcome home sir. Shall I start a shower? Call a doctor, perhaps?"

"Lights off. No talking." Tony face planted into the couch in the workshop and became nothing for a little while.

The pain in his chest woke him a few hours later. He came to disoriented. He clutched at his chest, expecting to find the car battery still attached. Panic. The ache was too familiar. And it wasn't. That ache was as he healed, this one as he died.  He sat up gasping, his heart beating way too fast. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. But reminding himself hardly helped. He opened his eyes, took in his surroundings. He needed to ground himself.

"JARVIS?" He gasped out.

"How can I help sir?”

“Talk. Just talk.”

JARVIS talked. About the weather or about the news. Tony wasn’t sure. He just needed background noise, something to drown out the panic in his head. He used it to calm his heart. Calm his breathing. He sat up.

"JARVIS. How bad is it?"

"It appears to have lost quite some time from the exertion of yesterday's activities."

"JARVIS. How much _time._ ”

"It appears to be around fourteen days, sir."

_Shit shit shit shit shit_

"My sentiments exactly, sir."

He had a two weeks. Fourteen days. He could do it. He'd invented much more impressive technology under much tighter deadlines. Sometimes drunk and delirious to top it off. He just needed to focus.

Tony sat himself up slowly, all his muscles burning. And not the good kind of burning. The 'you tore every muscle in your body' kind of burning. He dragged himself into the shower to find it already on. JARVIS really was a lifesaver.

"Sir, Mr. Stane and Mr. Rogers have left messages while you were out. Would you like me to respond to either?”

"Tell Obie I’ll meet him at his office later. Steve I’ll respond to later.”

Tony took his time showering, letting the hot water melt away some of the ache. His chest, though, looked weird. Amongst the bruising, new and old, black veins bulged from his skin. It was worrying, to say the least. He’d never seen anything like it before. But, there wasn’t anything he could do. He wasn’t going to tell anyone, show anyone. It would go away once he fixed his reactor.

Tony decided to just get his meeting with Obie out of the way early. He could spend the rest of the day working. Or sleeping. The later was sounding like a much better option.

He put on a suit, though even his t-shirt pressed on his bruises. He didn’t need anyone knowing anything. At the office, he hid his limp as best he could as he swung open the door. He flashed smiles everywhere, turning on the charm. This was his stage. It was time to act.

Obie sat, feet kicked up, at his desk. He didn't look up when Tony walked in.

"Obie, I'm shutting down weapons and I'm doing it now.”

“Ah, you’ve found out about Gulmira. Took you a while Tones. You’re slipping.”

Huh?

“Obie, you knew about this?”

“Of course, Tony. I know about everything that goes on in this company. Everything.”

“So why didn’t you stop it?”

“The same reason I hired them to take you out. I wanted it to happen.”

Tony’s world crashed around him. Obie hired them to kill him? Obie, his friend?

“It was you?”

“Of course, Tony. Who else would want you out of the way? I got what I wanted, too.”

What he wanted? Tony’s brain was processing. What could Obie have possibly gained from having him killed?

"I don't have time for this. Weapons are shut down, end of story," Tony turned to leave.

“Uh uh uh, not so fast. Your words mean nothing here now. Not anymore.”

Oh. Oh. The company. That’s what he wanted. But, why?

“They transferred the rights to me once you were presumed dead. They don’t leave large businesses hanging on long, you know.”

“But, why? How is it any different than before? And why keep the name?”

“Now, for that, you’ll have to see. I’ve got big plans for you. Your last name at least. Big, big plans. Oh, and before you go off to your little star-spangled boyfriend, I should ask. How's your poor excuse for a heart? Still ticking? I wonder if the Avengers will have any of the technology you need to fix it in time. Just curious, Tony. What’s your workshop worth to you?”

He was torn. He needed his workshop, needed JARVIS or he’d die. But, Obie was killing people, and it wasn’t on accident. He supposed he knew what Steve would do, but Tony wasn’t like that. He’d just come back, just started wanting to live again after accepting death in that cave. He couldn’t give it all up so easily. There had to be a way to save everyone.

"So, here’s what we do. Or, what _you_ do. You build me a Jericho to replace the one you destroyed,” he glances at the watch on his wrist, “eight hours ago. You build it for me in, oh two weeks, and I won’t destroy your workshop and everything in it. But one word, about any of this, and bye bye JARVIS and any chance of survival. Do we have a deal?”

Tony didn’t respond.

"I'll be checking in on you, Tones. Now off you go."

He walked out, numb. He was a zombie. A zombie on his way home.

He asked JARVIS how likely he’d survive if he left, went with Steve and left it all behind.

"I cannot speak for their technology, sir, though I doubt theirs compares. I'd say your chances are much higher if you stay. I'm sorry."

So he was fucked. To stay was to kill people. To leave was to die. 

* * *

 

He had thirteen days left. Obie checked on him constantly, put cameras around his house. He couldn't hide. So he started to build a Jericho. Enough to prove he was working. Not enough to actually finish it. He needed a backup plan. He hadn’t thought of one yet.

Steve showed up after a few days. Tony hadn’t slept much. He though he had nine days left.

Steve approached carefully. He'd seen the footage of Iron Man's attack on the men in Gulmira.

"Tony," Steve said.

"Steve," Tony said.

Steve glanced around. Tony kept working. Model number forty five and still hardly any longevity.  His chest was a maze of black. A few of the ruined veins slithered up his neck. He kept his head down so Steve wouldn’t see.

“Why are you still here Tony? You're better than this."

"No, I'm actually not," Tony lifted his gaze to Steve's. He could see Steve's eyes catch on the black trails on his neck.

"Tony, what's this? What’s going on?" Steve reached out a hand, hesitated just inches from the skin on his neck. Tony froze. He wanted to lean in, to feel Steve’s fingers touch his skin. But, he couldn’t. He couldn’t take that, not from Steve. Not even a touch. He didn’t deserve it. He jerked away, causing Steve pulled his hand back to his side. Tony let out the breath he was holding. It was better this way.

"Nothing." Tony lowered his gaze back to the arc reactor in his hands.

"Tony, we can help you. I know you. You wouldn’t do this unless you had no other choice. Let us help you.”

"I don't need your help. I need to get back to work." Obie would be watching. He'd know Tony wasn't working. Obie had to have known how much time Tony had left. He set his deadline for the same day.

"I can't let you do this.”

“Weapons will always be my specialty, Steve. I’ve accepted it, why can’t you.”

“I thought you were changing things.”

“I thought,” he paused. “I don’t know what I thought, but it doesn’t matter now. Things won’t change, they never do.”

Steve needed to leave. The longer he was here the more Tony thought about saying fuck it and going with him. He couldn’t do that. In every scenario he ended up dead.

"We could've been a team, Tony. We could’ve been together.”

Tony tried not to put meaning where it wasn’t, but it was hard not to. Together, the two of them. It would’ve been amazing. It would’ve been disastrous.

“I would’ve ruined it all.”

Steve opened his mouth to respond.

“Go. Please, go.”

Steve left after that. Tony felt his anger well up, it wasn’t fair. He shouldn’t have to deal with this. Any of this. He couldn’t stand it anymore. Tony took the arc reactor model he was working on and threw it at the wall with a yell. He sank to the floor as glass and metal pieces rained down. Somehow, he didn’t feel any better. He wanted to give up, spend the next nine days curled up right there on the floor. It wouldn’t be so bad. Certainty not the worst he could imagine.

Obie walked in hours later to find Tony exactly there. His shoes crunched on the glass scattered across the floor.

“Tony, you’ve got work to do.”

Tony didn’t respond. He laid staring at the wall. His whole body had gone numb a long time ago. Bliss.

“You need more of an incentive?” Tony could hear Obie typing into his phone. He clicked on one of the TV’s in the corner of the room. Tony could hear a new caster talking.

“Breaking news, folks. A city near Gulmira, the site of Iron Man’s recent rescue, has now gone up in a similar fashion…”

“I can do more, Tony. You didn’t think this missile was the only thing I had, did you? I have plenty of other options for doing damage. I need the Jericho for something special and since you’re the only one who knows how to make it, I suggest you get to work. It’s not so hard, is it?”

He paused. Tony waited, breath held.

“Need I choose another target? There are quite a few people it would benefit me to get out of the way.”

He wouldn’t. Not two in a row. Tony heard him typing.

“Wait, wait. Stop, no more.” Tony uncurled himself, sitting against the wall. He cracked his head against it, bang bang bang. It felt right to him as he watched Obie look at him.

“Good choice. The next was going to get a little closer to home.”

Tony didn’t bother asking who he meant. There were only three people prevalent in his life. It had to be one of them. He dropped his head into his hands. Everything was falling apart, why wasn’t the world too?

* * *

 

Steve showed up again with three days left. He came in without a word and sat on the couch with his sketchpad in his hands, but he didn’t pick up his pencil. Not at first. He watched Tony for a little while. Studying him. Tony wondered if the veins were any worse, he’d been too scared to look last time he showered. Denial was his best friend at this point. His hands were shaking, too. His eyes were closing as he worked.

“Tony, how long as it been since you’ve eaten? Slept?”

Tony didn’t respond. He was having a hard time focusing on the words. They floated around the room instead.

Steve was suddenly by his side, tugging him away from his stool and up the stairs.

“What, no. I have to figure this out.”

Steve propped Tony up beside him and walked them both to Tony’s bedroom. Tony, gave up and leaned into Steve. Steve pulled back the covers on his bed, sat Tony on the edge. He knelt and pulled off Tony’s shoes, slid his socks off his feet. He tugged at the edges of Tony’s shirt until he lifted his arms up. Tony should be embarrassed, he knew that, but he was so damn tired and so damn scared. Who gave a fuck about anything else, he was going to die in a few days. Steve grimaced when his arc reactor was exposed, but he didn’t say anything. He slid Tony’s feet under the sheets, put pressure on his shoulders until he lay down. Tony was half asleep immediately, only vaguely aware of an icepack being placed on his chest.

“Work, need to work.”

“No, Tony. No you don’t.”

Tony felt the bed dip behind him, Steve’s palm on his shoulder stopping him from his poor attempt at getting up. He let Steve keep him there. Sleep came then. Sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Tony jolted awake with ideas. Two of them. Two problems, two ideas, two days left. Steve was nowhere to be found, but coffee and a breakfast burrito sat on the counter. He pointedly did not think about Steve undressing him last night and Steve’s hands on him and Steve not being there that morning. He didn’t have time. After today, though, he might.

The next two days were a blur of building his new arc and finishing the Jericho, each one in a way Tony thought was going to work out. Everyone would live. Everyone. He just needed to keep certain pieces a secret from Obie. He seemed to do that part successfully as well, though it was hard to tell. Tony got a message from Obie telling him he had to finish the Jericho before Obie would allow him to switch his arc. That was fine. They both finished around the same time anyways.

He waited for Obie to show up once he was done. Obie would know. And know he did, he walked in not ten minutes after the arc was placed on the counter, finished.

“Well done, Tony. You even made it smaller, more portable. I like it, thinking ahead.”

Tony stayed quiet.                                                                                              

“Alright, let’s go.”

"Go? I’m done. I built what you asked. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a replacement to put in.”

“No, I don’t think so Tony. Your job isn’t done until you’ve set this up right where I want it. Then, I’ll let you,” he waved his hand at Tony, “fix yourself. And, just to make sure, I’ll be keeping this with me.” Tony lunged, but Obie beat him to it, snatching the arc off the counter and putting it in his pocket. God, Tony had been so stupid. Why had he left it just sitting there?

“Follow.” Follow Tony did. To the top of Stark Enterprises, his office building. Up and up and up. The roof. Obie led him out there, the Jericho sat waiting.

“Set it up.”

Here? Now? _Shit shit shit shit._ There was a problem. A huge, huge problem.

He needed to buy some time, to figure out what to do.

“I wonder if this will survive the fall,” Obie said, holding the new arc reactor over the edge of the building.

“Okay, okay.” Tony approached the Jericho. In all honesty, it only needed five minutes of set up. Ten max. But he needed more than that. He needed a distraction.

“Ah, yes. I almost forgot, let’s get your boyfriend here to witness this, shall we?”

Windows shattered as gunfire erupted somewhere below them in the city. Chaos emerged, floated up to them on the rooftop. Help was coming. Tony needed to delay just until then. Steve could stop them both.

So, Tony fiddled. He circled the base a few times, stepped back, frowned, scratched his head, knelt under the control panel, tangled his hands in wires. Anything. Everything. Across the rooftop, Obie was growing impatient. Sighing and pacing. He barked orders into his phone to his men down below. The sun beat down on them both. Ten minutes passed. The Avengers were coming. They’d be there soon.

Tony did it all again. Circling and scratching and tangling. He groaned like he’d made a mistake and did it all again. Just when he couldn’t do anything more, a figure dropped onto the roof, feet almost silent as they landed. Steve. Tony could cry, he was saved. Above them, a helicarrier hoovered and then zoomed away.

"Shut it down,” Steve said.

“Now why on Earth would I do that? It’s almost ready, and Tony’s spent so long working on it for me.”

“Tony, shut it down. You don’t have to do this,” Steve zeroed his gaze on Tony.

“Actually, if he wants to live, he kind of does,” Obie cut in. At that Steve frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“He hasn’t told you? Now what kind of boyfriend are you, Tony, keeping secrets like this from Stevie here.”

Tony remained silent. He had no control here.

“Well, Steve, Tony here hasn’t got much time left on his ticker there. His pretend heart is failing. By my calculation, he’s got an hour left. And this here, this is the replacement he built. We trade, you see. That for this.”

Steve’s eyes widened at that. He swung around to look at Tony. Tony kept his eyes averted.

“One wrong move and this goes over the edge.”

And that was it wasn’t it. He had both the men on the roof stuck, watching. It was his show. The ringleader has stepped into the ring.

“Now, Tony. I’m going to give you two minutes, three if you beg, and then this needs to be ready.”

“I need to get something from JARVIS,” Tony said, pulling out his phone.

“One wrong word and,” Obie started.

“Over the edge, I get it.”

Tony knelt behind the Jericho where Obie wouldn’t be able to see him.

“JARVIS, I need you to send the suit and I need you to get me access to Steve’s comm. Now. Also, if you could cause some rukus below so Obie will be distracted by a phone call that would be great.”

“Suit is on its way, Mr. Roger’s is on the line whenever you’re ready. Mr. Stane is receiving a phone call as we speak.”

“Steve? I need you to get the people, all of them within a ten mile radius, and I need you to evacuate.”

Steve reached up and pressed his comm with his finger. Tony could hear Obie yelling into his phone.

“I thought the missile was supposed to go somewhere else.”

“I built it wrong though. I built it so it would blow up whoever tries to activate it. I thought Obie was going to send it to someone else, somewhere else, like he did before. You need to leave.”

“What about you?”

“I’m already dead. I can stall him. Get out of here.”

“I’ll tell my team, but I’m not leaving you. We will figure this out, together.”

Steve cut off his connection with Tony and started issuing orders about evacuation. Together. That's what Obie had been saying since day one. Why hadn’t it so enticing, so good, until Steve was the one saying it?

Tony’s suit morphed around his body just as Obie hung up the phone.

“Oh scary, Tony’s got his armor. Activate it, now.”

Tony hesitated. Obie dangled it over the rooftop. Sighing, Tony activated it. They had five minutes.

“Five minutes Steve. I’m sorry. Please, go.”

Steve shook his head. He took a step towards Obie, like he was going to attack. Obie grinned.

“Oh, I’d hoped you’d do that,” he said and let the arc reactor slip from between his fingers and fall. Tony watched, paralyzed.

“No,” Steve whispered, one hand outstretched in a futile effort to catch it. It was too late.

The world froze around them. Steve’s hands balled into fists and he charged Obie.

“It’s too late. Nothing you can do can stop this from happening now.”

Steve knocked him out with a swift punch to the face. He lay crumpled on the rooftop. They had four minutes left.

“Okay, what do we do?”

Tony shook his head. It was pointless. All his friends would die because of him. It had all been for nothing.

“Tony, please. Help me figure this out.”

“There’s nothing, Steve. I’m sorry.”

“No, there’s got to be a way.”

“Go. Get as far away as possible.”

“Come with me.”

“I’m dead already. No point in leaving. Wouldn’t want to see all these people die because of me before I go.”

Three minutes.

Steve shook Tony’s armor.

“Please.”

“There’s nothing.”

“I’m not leaving you. If you die, we die together.”

Together. The word snapped him out of his daze. He couldn’t handle it. Steve needed to get out of here. He couldn’t stand killing Steve too. Not on top of all the other people. If Steve wouldn’t leave he needed another way. He got an idea.

He shook out of Steve’s grip, launched himself at the missile. He did calculations in his head as he wrapped his arms around it.

“JARVIS, maximum thrust, straight up.”

“Sir, you won’t survive this.”

“I know, but _they_ will, _he_ will.”

“Well, sir, then might I remind you, you need to clear this distance so the explosion won’t do major damage.”

A distance appeared on his screen. As he pushed, he watched the distance to the spot get smaller and smaller. He had a minute. Then thirty seconds. His suit started to flicker. On and on he pressed. Nearly there. Ten seconds. Nine. Eight. Seven. He let go, he’d gone far enough. He let the suit fall as the power flickered.

“Tony?” Steve’s voice appeared in his helmet, choppy and static filled.

“Yeah?”

“I-“

One. The world blew up.

* * *

 

The world blew up. Steve was forced to his knees by the force of it. Heat filled the air, he was choking. Gray ash rained down, coating everything. He guessed that meant Tony got the distance right. Steve stumbled his way to the door of the roof, gulping in the clean air before going back on the roof. He looked up, scanning the sky. A flash of red among the gray billowing clouds. Tony. His suit was stuttering, flickering on and off as he fell and caught himself. He landed hard on the roof, went skidding to the other side.

Steve took off running, throwing himself to his knees by Tony’s side. He pried the battered facemask off the suit. Beneath it, Tony was unconscious and pale.

“Tony?”

No response.

“Tony? Please.” Still nothing.

Tony’s head in his lap. His skin was still warm, a faint pulse still beat in his throat. Steve had to act fast.

“I need help up here. Rooftop, stat,” He said into his comm. No response came back. Someone heard him, though. Someone had to have.

He felt around his pockets, until finally his hand closed over what he was looking for. The arc reactor Pepper had given him that night nearly a month ago. He’d kept it in his pocket, at first by accident and then, well he wasn’t sure why. Just in case, he supposed. Bucky used to carry inhalers around for him, it was kind of the same thing. He remembered what Pepper had said, too. This one hadn’t failed, not yet at least. Tony had just replaced it with an upgrade. It could hold him over until help arrived.

 Steve tore off the chest plate and the black tank top he wore underneath. Tony’s chest was even worse than the few nights ago when he’d seen it, and before had almost sent Steve to tears. He’d had to leave the room and catch his breath, wanting to both punch Tony for letting it get bad and to take away all his pain. He now understood why Tony had let it get bad. He’d had no choice.

Panic made Steve’s fingers clumsy as he eased the dead reactor out of Tony’s chest. He wiped the one from his pocket off with the edge of his t-shirt and lined it up with the gaping hold in Tony’s chest. He had to twist it around until finally, it popped into place.  

He held a hand over it, thinking warmth would keep the heart pumping or whatever. He wasn’t really thinking all that much. He waited. The heartbeat beneath his hand kept going. And going. Had it worked? Would he be able to tell?

Around him, the paramedics had finally arrived. They barked orders around Steve, pushed his hand off of Tony’s chest. Steve wrapped his hand around Tony’s instead. He wasn’t going to let go. Someone should be holding his hand.

“Rogers, we need to get him onto the carrier.”

“I’m going with.”

“Fine, you have to help then.”

Steve did as he was told, trying his best to keep hold of Tony’s hand as much as possible. They loaded Tony onto a board, strapped him to it. A small transportation helicopter landed on the roof. They ran.

“We’re getting a pulse. A faint one.”

They made it. He squeezed Tony’s hand. They made it. He let his head fall back against the wall of the helicopter, closed his eyes, and listened to the sound of the paramedics work. It had been a long day. A long day indeed.


	7. Chapter 7

Steve slept on the hospital chair beside Tony’s bed for the next four days. He didn’t let go of his hand. Doctors, after the first day, just worked around him. It was easier than dealing with Steve Rogers yelling at them. Much, much easier.

On the fifth day, just after Steve fell asleep, Tony came to. Machines went off around the room. Steve jerked awake. Doctors rushed in and still he didn’t let go. Tony cracked his eyes open not long after. The doctors left Steve with a cup of water and a demand that he get them if anything should go wrong.

“Hey,” Steve said.

Tony smiled a little.

“Hey.”

“Water?” Steve held it out. Tony nodded, used the hand not linked with Steve’s to bring the cups to his lips. If Steve holding his hand bothered him, he didn’t acknowledge it.

“What happened?” Tony asked after draining the cup of water.

Steve told him all about it. About the missile and the fall and Obie’s subsequent arrest. About the trip here and the spare arc reactor and the replacement they’d built with JARVIS’s help. He told it sort of out of order, his words tripping over each other in a race to get out. He’d held it in for what felt like forever, just waiting to tell Tony.

“What’d they make it out of?” Tony asked when he told him about the replacement.

“Vibranium, funnily enough. Same stuff as my shield.” Steve wanted scream at him. They’d had what he was looking for all along. But it was too late for that. They all had their reasons.

“How long I been out?”

“A few days, four or five?”

“And you’ve been here the whole time?”

Steve nodded. Tony squeezed his hand.

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“Sticking around. Trying to save me back there. All of it. Everything.”

Steve nodded.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.”

A parade of people came through the room after that. Steve, seeing Coulson and Fury at the door, took his leave. He placed a kiss to Tony’s forehead without thinking, something he’d been doing a lot while Tony was sleeping, and turned to leave. He almost missed the dopey smile that stretched across Tony’s face after. Almost.

He gave Tony some space. He had a lot of catching up to do, a lot of decisions to deal with. Steve went down to the cafeteria and got some food. He sat at a table in the corner and ate alone. He went back for seconds and took the tray with him back up to the fourth floor, back to Tony’s room. He found it empty, Tony dozing in the bed while the TV played news footage of them. Steve put the tray down to the side and clicked the TV off. He curled himself into the plastic chair and tried to get comfortable. After shifting into yet another position, Tony snorted from the bed. Steve looked up to find Tony watching him, a smirk on his face.

“Comfy?” He said.

“Yeah. I’m good.” Steve played it off.

“Really? Because if you weren’t I was going to make some room up here for you? But if you’re fine there, then by all means stay there.” Tony shifted over anyway, holding the blanket open for Steve.

Steve slid under them after kicking his shoes off. They laid face to face, their legs tangling beneath the blankets.

“So, wonder boy,” Tony whispered.

“So, Megara,” Steve whispered back. They both had smiles on their faces.

“What were you trying to say?”

“When?” Steve asked.

“When the bomb went off.”

Steve hesitated, before pressing his lips to Tony’s forehead, his cheek, his eyelid, his nose.

“This is what I was going to say,” He whispered in between kisses.

He kissed Tony’s lips then, soft and gentle. He linked their hands together.

“This.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that's it. At least for now. Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think and come say hi on Tumblr, [ here ](http://kibberswrites.tumblr.com/)! I'd love to hear from you :)


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